“This way, Your Toothiness,” Cainus said, and padded off down a hallway.
As they moved through the museum, the Unpharaoh griped about the ancient exhibits. “Look at these newfangled, modern knick-knacks,” she complained, picking up a two thousand year old statuette. “I wouldn’t have allowed a ushabti to be made this badly, back in my day. More like u-shabby!”
The more artefacts she examined, the more agitated she became. “So many statues . . . paintings . . . so many great kings and queens . . .”
She stopped and whirled around. “Why am I not in the museum?” she demanded of Cainus.
He quailed before her horrid stare. “A simple oversight, I imagine, Your Majesty. Or perhaps they’ve put aside a special room, just for statues and paintings of you, and they only open it once a year. On your birthday. That’s it, you have a birthday room!”
Prof Sharkey interrupted. “I’m sorry, Andica. I have watched the ways of the world these four thousand years. There’s a very good reason there are no statues or paintings of you.”
A terrible silence fell as the Unpharaoh waited for the Prof’s explanation.
Bab’s mum cleared her throat. “The truth is,” she said gently, “no one liked you enough to want to remember you.”
A heartbroken wail filled the room. At first Bab thought it was the Unpharaoh, but it was her chief jackal.
“Aw-ooooo!” howled Cainus. “The hur-hur-hur-hurrrt! I’m not sure I can bear it!”
“Silence, you yowling coward!” snapped his mistress. “If the truth doesn’t hurt me, then it needn’t hurt you.”
Cainus blinked at her through his tears. “But . . . but that pain rushed into me through my Beard,” he blubbered. “That’s your pain, Your Majesty, not mine. It happens sometimes when you grow very focused. Your feelings come pouring down the Beard hairs and into my chin.”
Bab could swear he saw the hairy lower lip of the Unpharaoh tremble for a moment.
“Nonsense,” said the prickly head. “What do I care for the opinions of those beneath me? Lead on, Cainus! I look forward to giving the people of this world something to remember me by.”
It won’t be a fond memory, thought Bab with a shiver.
“Hey, dude,” Scaler whispered to Bab, “why is Lady Furball bringing us along for this tour anyway? Why not just zap us all with a nosebolt?”
“She’s showing off,” said Bab. “She said she wants me to watch as she destroys my world.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
The jackal led them into a room of mummified animals. There were gazelles, lizards, sheep, baboons, all displayed in glass cases.
Scaler peered at a lumpy fish mummy and tapped on the glass. “Hey, bro,” she said, “hope you’re partying in the Afterworld.”
Prong’s eyes boggled at several ibis mummies encased in painted coffins. “I never knew I had relatives in Cairo,” she honked. “They’re much littler than my side of the family!”
“Regular animal mummies are smaller than you Mumphis ones,” Bab explained. “The Smoothie of Immortality must have made you guys big and strong.”
“Funny you should mention that magic drink, boy,” the Unpharaoh butted in. “I trust you prepared the recipe as ordered, Cainus?”
Cainus plucked a pot from his striped headscarf. “Of course, Your Majesty. The classic mix: natron, resin and lollipops.”
He gave the pot a shake and Bab heard liquid sloshing about inside.
“Time for the final ingredient, then,” she announced.
Cainus popped the lid off his pot. The Unpharaoh grasped her own head and plucked out a thick, thorny hair.
“Wait,” said Bab. “What are you doing?”
The Unpharaoh dropped the hair into the pot. Cainus popped the lid back on and shook the mixture, a toothy grin spreading along his pointy snout.
“If you want people to remember you, Unpharaoh,” Bab said quickly, “I’m not sure this is the way.”
The Unpharaoh ignored him. She sent spiky tentacles out of her hairy head, each one tipped with a nasty horn.
PSSH! PSSH! PSSH!
The Beard Tentacles smashed the display cases, showering the room with glass.
“Now, feed those mummies,” the Unpharaoh ordered.
Cainus leaped into action, pouring the contents of the pot into the mouths of the animal mummies. It came out as a grey, gritty mixture. Some of the mummies were held in wooden sarcophagi, which Cainus pried open with his teeth.
“May I have some, please?” asked Prong. “It looks delicious!”
Bab dived at Cainus, trying to wrestle the pot from his grasp. But the Unpharaoh’s spiky tentacle tightened around Bab’s waist and pinned him against the wall.
“Don’t do this!” he yelled. The Unpharaoh’s prickles burned against his skin.
But it was too late. The mummified animals began to shift. The cats stood up on their ancient legs. The lizards shuffled out of their cases. A baboon scampered around and a crocodile snapped its jaws.
They were no longer animal mummies. They’d become Animal Mummies.
Something even more dreadful was happening. Each Animal Mummy was expanding, its bandages creaking as it grew to twice its original size.
“Told you the magic mummies were bigger,” Bab muttered.
However, these new Animal Mummies weren’t quite like the ones from Mumphis. They were darker in colour, and they sprouted prickles all over their bodies. They all had nasty, growly looks about them.
“I think it might be burgermuff time,” Bab whispered to Scaler and Prong. They quietly blocked their ears with the dustburgers.
“Animal Mummies!” barked the Unpharaoh. The newly created beasts stood to attention. “You are finally free. Free to serve me, your new Pharaoh. Now go out of this museum and sniff out as many animal mummies as you can find. They are stored in museums all over the world, and I want plenty of prickly slaves to build my new empire.”
Growling and bleating in gravelly voices, the Prickle Mummies darted from the room.
The Unpharaoh released Bab from the tentacle. He fell to the floor, clutching his wounds. His mum rushed over and wrapped her arms around him.
“So that’s the rest of your plan, Unpharaoh?” Bab panted, catching his breath. “Adding some spiky mummies into the mix?”
“Oh,
